


Guys My Age

by divineshewolf



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse
Genre: Age Difference, Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Feels, Cheating, Dad!Michael, Drugs, Explicit Language, F/M, Français | French, Infidelity, Kissing, Light Choking, Mentions Pornography, Outpost!Michael, POV Alternating, Porn With Plot, Smut, Sneaking Around, Summer Vacation, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:27:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24188143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/divineshewolf/pseuds/divineshewolf
Summary: During the summer break after your sophomore year of college, your best friend brings you home to visit her family and she introduces you to her father, Michael.
Relationships: Michael Langdon/Reader, Michael Langdon/You
Comments: 5
Kudos: 46





	Guys My Age

**Author's Note:**

> After arriving at your best friend’s home, you meet her parents and notice that her father, Michael, is extremely attractive for his age and when your desires are revealed to him, the two of you tread into dangerous waters.

**_Guys my age don’t know how to tease me_ **

**_don’t know how to touch me_ **

**_don’t know how to love me good..._ **

It’s the summer after your second year of college and even now you wouldn’t say that regretted the decision to go home with your best friend, Monroe, to visit her family. They were extraordinarily nice and kind, especially her father…Mr. Langdon. But he preferred for you to call him Michael. 

When the two of you arrived, it was completely innocent at first. Had you known what awaited you this summer…well, let’s face it – you wouldn’t have tried to prevent it because the events that unfolded in the following weeks would be a once in a lifetime experience. It was what you needed and more, even if you had to suffer the consequences later.

As you and Monroe entered her house, her mother, Madilyn, immediately greeted the both of you. She was a tall, fair-skinned woman with short, wavy brown locks and a drop-dead gorgeous smile. Monroe had her same doe eyes. She quickly embraced Monroe in the tightest hug, and you could see in Monroe’s face how uncomfortable she was as she laughed awkwardly, patting her mother’s back gently.

“Oh, welcome home, sweetheart!” Madilyn exclaimed with a full smile spread across her lips, her voice full of cheer and elegance. “We missed you so much!”

In the past, Monroe told you her mother was unbearable, that they didn’t really get along especially without her brother around to be the filler. Her brother Finn moved away after he got married two years ago and he rarely comes home ever since he had his first baby eight months ago. Monroe talks to him every now and again on the phone but he’s a family man and the conversations only last for a very short time. 

After a few more seconds Madilyn released her and dropped her arms to her sides but continued gazing at Monroe like she was a prize, a trophy. The way a mother admired her daughter’s growth. “Uh…this is (y/n), my friend who’s staying with us.” Monroe introduced you, focusing her mother’s attention elsewhere.

Without hesitation, her mother tackled you with the same tight, loving hug, but you smiled and hugged her back, the homey warmth she radiated surrounding you…something you never experienced it in your own home. Even the house contained a delicate, sweet aroma. It didn’t make sense why Monroe disliked her mother, but it also wasn’t your place to judge. You never lived in Monroe’s shoes.

As Madilyn let you go, Monroe began looking around with wide, alert eyes. “Where’s Papa?” She asked, the word drawing back to her French heritage.

Instantly, her mother’s smile began to fade, and her eyes shifted to the floor before looking back at Monroe disdainfully. “He’s at the store…getting things for dinner.” She coldly said, forcing a weak grin. “Why don’t you two go upstairs and get settled in? I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”

The mention of her husband appeared to upset her but why? Monroe never said anything about her parents being at odds, but she also didn’t notice her mother’s change in attitude when she discussed her father. She just smiled and gave her mother a peck on the cheek.

“Mercì, mama.” Monroe strolled past her with her luggage in hand and you swiftly followed, giving her mother a kind smile before leaving her sight.

You strolled up the steps while carrying your own bags as Monroe led you to the top and down a narrow hallway into the bedroom at the end. After she pushed the door open, Monroe dropped her bags on the floor and sighed with relief. “Welcome to my childhood.” 

Plastered around the cream-colored room were posters depicting Monroe’s favorite teenage obsessions – everything from the cast of the twilight saga series to Leonardo DiCaprio to alternative bands. She threw herself on her bed in the corner, sighing once more from the long trip as you looked around the room, smiling at the pictures of her and her friends that covered the mirror on her dresser.

“Are these the infamous misfits?” You asked, glancing over the faces of the three boys and two girls in the photos with Monroe. She had told you about her friends back home – their adventures and how well she expected you’d get along with them.

“Yup!” said Monroe as she hopped off the bed to stand beside you. “I can’t wait for you to meet them tonight. And just so you know, Evan is going to be all over you.”

You rolled your eyes, chuckling when she patted you on the shoulder.

She already told you back in the dorms that her friend Evan would be your type and you would be his, but guys your own age didn’t know how to please you…sexually. It inevitably was a waste of time to have sex with any guy because you were always disappointed. Boys your own age didn’t have an ounce of stamina and they don’t give a damn if you cum or not. If they’re satisfied, it’s good enough for them. 

Officially, no one has ever made you have an orgasm; only you. But all your toys (and fingers) couldn’t satisfy you in the way you desired, the deep rooting way that you craved to be touched and handled and not a single guy that you’ve been with has been able to deliver. You didn’t doubt for a second that Evan would be any different.

And for someone as sexual as you are, it was an enormous letdown.

Past hookups are normally two to three minutes of pumping, they cum, and you get nothing but a sour look on your face…sometimes five minutes with blowjobs and how awful it was to carry a high sex drive with not a dick in sight lasting long enough to satiate it. Old reliable aka your smooth, pink wand vibrator was your trusty companion for all intents and purposes, and left you feeling about seventy percent satisfied…maybe sixty. “Your mom seems nice.” You said, changing the subject.

Monroe scoffed as she sat on the edge of the bed. “Try living with her for twenty-two years.” She said. “My mother just loves to be in control and act dramatic about little things. Honestly, without my dad, I would have lost my mind.”

Suddenly, the front door downstairs slammed shut and the jingling of keys echoed up the stairs, making Monroe’s face light up with excitement. “He’s here! C’mon!” She announced and jumped to her feet, grabbing your hand before she rushes downstairs, taking you with her. It was cute how much Monroe adored her father, at least she had a decent parent in her life. 

Reaching the front room, Monroe left you at the bottom step as she lunged into the arms of the tall man standing by the door. “Papa! I missed you!” She squealed, hugging him and pressing her cheek to his chest. His long, strawberry blonde curls, shining from the ceiling lights, fall over her head as he leans his head down, embracing her with his broad arms and grinning with love.

“Monroe, mon ange! Tu m'as manqué aussi!” His voice, heavy and smooth, with the inflection of a French accent in his words in rings sweetly in your ears.

When Monroe steps back, he straightens up his back and looks in your direction. If you didn’t know that this was her father, you wouldn’t have believed it. He appeared like a model from those magazines you read to pass the time at the hair salon. The delicate, porcelain features of his face. His sharp jawline and icy blue eyes caressed by the long hair almost identical to Monroe’s. His plump, pink lips above his chin dancing with happiness.

He was _god-like_. He was… _Monroe’s_ _father_.

How could someone like him be a dad? Monroe rushes beside you and locks her arm around yours and leads you to him. “Papa, this is (y/n). Remember I told you she was staying with us for the summer?”

“Yes, of course! What a pleasure to finally meet you, (y/n).” He held out his hand, looking at you through hooded eyes.

“Likewise, Mr. Langdon.” Clasping his hand and touching his soft skin sends your heart fluttering like a butterfly, heat flushing in your cheeks. His beauty made you nervous and it was unusual, but you realized that Monroe must have that effect on boys. She reflected her father in the best ways – her hair, her eyes, and her smile.

“Please, call me _Michael_.”

Realizing that you had been staring into his eyes, completely mesmerized, you snatched your hand away a bit more aggressively than you wanted and grinned apologetically, hoping he didn’t catch how flustered you were. He quickly grabbed the grocery bags off the floor and went into the kitchen, placing them on the counters.

Monroe moves over to one of the stools at the breakfast bar, leaning over to watch Michael pull out the various vegetables from his shopping. “C'est l'aubergine que je vois? Tu fais de mon préféré?”

“Vous aurez juste à attendre et voir...” Michael chuckles before glancing up at you. “Apologies, (y/n). Monroe let’s be mindful of our guest. It’s very rude to speak a different language in front of someone who doesn’t know it.”

“Um, it’s alright. I don’t mind.” You tell him as you sit on the stool beside Monroe.

“She’s always asking me to speak in French to her anyway, and she just nods and smiles.” Monroe laughed, playfully shoving you as Michael began to chop up the vegetables – eggplants, zucchini, tomatoes, mushrooms, the works. You caught yourself admiring his thick hands skillfully slicing the veggies with a large knife; he knew exactly what he was doing.

“What are you making?”

“Ratatouille.” He shot his eyes up at you, pausing for a moment. “Have you had it before?” You shake your head ‘no’ before he looked back down, and you see a soft hint of a smirk tug at the corner of his mouth and try your hardest not to stare at him (again). The last thing you needed was to make him feel uncomfortable, as attractive as he was, he probably got enough of Monroe’s friends swooning over him. 

“It’s Monroe’s favorite and I think you’ll enjoy it, too.” He said, fishing out a large pot from the cabinet below him. “So, what do you girls have planned for the evening?”

“We’re going to see the gang. Probably hit up the old spot and get drunk.” Monroe shared, turning to her head to face you and winked. Her not-so-subtle reminder about Evan made you roll your eyes, but you wanted to be optimistic about it and decided that you would put on a good face and just go with the flow. 

Michael’s laugh, sweet and sublime, was loud enough to shake the room. He continued cooking by putting the chopped eggplant in first with some salt and then leaned on his palms against the counter. “Just be careful, okay? You too, (y/n).” He added sincerely, eying Monroe first then you.

His eyes were breathtaking, along with his chiseled cheekbones and you swallowed a wad of spit hard. How could Monroe’s father be so beautiful? Men his age don’t even look like him, it made you feel odd about finding him attractive. Instead of being caught in his trance once again, you snapped your eyes away from his gaze and put your focus on Monroe.

“Actually, we should go get ready. I need to wash this flight off me.” You stood to your feet as Monroe nodded.

“Oh yeah, good idea. By the time we’re done, the food should be ready.” Monroe clapped softly to herself before she started going upstairs, with you trailing behind.

###

After getting showered, you decided to be risky and put in your metal butt plug with the emerald jewel at the end. It was clear that you and Evan would most likely hook up tonight, and butt plugs added extra stimulation creating a scenario where (if he was skilled enough) he could make you cum, even if he didn’t last long.

Dressed in a short, black jean skirt and light pink crop top, you put on your black and white low-rise vans while Monroe sat at her vanity straightening her hair. Anticipation lingered in your heart as time moved forward and the sunsetted about an hour ago. You certainly were eager to have fun this summer, especially since it was the first one spent with a good friend in a place you’d never been to before.

During high school, you stayed home and worked as a babysitter. After meeting Monroe at the beginning of freshman year, she spent the summer with you at the dorms (she wasn’t interested in visiting home just yet) and you were grateful that you met her or else it would have been another boring break. And now she was kind of enough to invite to her home and her enthusiasm to introduce you to her hometown friends was rubbing off on you.

“Ready to go?!” Monroe asked, standing by her bedroom door, wearing a luscious short sleeveless pink summer dress and white sneakers, smiling like an idiot but it was what you loved about her, her charm and optimism made her your better half.

You stand and nod, beaming a soft a grin at grin before the two of you leave the room. Before long, you attentively glanced around for Michael, not wanting to be caught off guard by his own impeccable charm. If Monroe knew you were smitten by her father, things would become awkward quickly. 

The two of you ate dinner without her parents and when you both were done, Monroe hurried to clean up and her phone started buzzing sporadically. She answered her texts and grabbed her purse. “They’re here. C’mon.”

Two of Monroe’s friends, Devin and Avery, picked the two of you up, stopping at a liquor store before going to this empty park filled with a pool of young adults having a bonfire. She swiftly introduced you to her other close friends – Sidney, Renee, and of course, Evan.

You hated that Monroe had been right about Evan being your type and you certainly didn’t want to be a cliché by hooking up with the obvious hot guy (because that’s what he was), but that’s exactly what you were about to be because you couldn’t take your eyes off him. 

He wore dark blue jeans and a V-neck white t-shirt that showed a sprinkle of chest hair, beer in hand. Tattoos ran down both of his brawny arms, dark brown hair covered his jaw and upper lip, and his hair was buzzed except for the thick patch at the top. _Here we fucking go,_ you thought _._

Aside from appearing like the typical bad boy in a movie, Evan was quite friendly and easy to talk to. His confident flirting and hilarious jokes swept you in like a tide, and after a while, the two of you were sitting in the front of his car, parked some distance from the bonfire, making out heavily. With his hand tenderly rubbing the top of your thigh, his prickly beard scratching against your chin as his tongue swirled around inside your lips. 

His fingers inching closer the lacy fabric beneath your skirt creating a not-so-subtle way of telling you he wanted more and every time you moaned into his mouth, he kissed you harder. You squirmed in your seat as a familiar ache spread between your thighs, and at this point, you were through being teased, the wetness seeping into your panties made that clear. “Mmm, is all this for me?” He cooed as his fingers glided over the wet spot in the front of your panties, releasing a lewd gasp from your mouth. “God, I wanna fuck you.”

“What are you waiting for, then?” You boldly questioned him, quirking an eyebrow. He gave you a smug, lopsided grin, and opened the glove compartment that spilled out Trojan condoms onto the floor.

He took one between his fingers and paused for a second, gazing at his backseat that was covered with CDs, various clothing, and empty beer cans before he idly looked around the car as though he was trying to find someone but that wasn’t the case. The words ‘ _do you feel like being a bit risky_ ’ fell from his mouth and somehow, he’d convinced you to have sex outside against the car.

Within minutes, you’re bent over the trunk with your legs parted and your skirt pushed up to your waist, your ass exposed in the dead of night. Part of you worried if someone would see but once he had the condom around his cock (which was about the average length) and shoved your panties to the side, there wasn’t much you could do except for grip the side of the car as he thrust inside you, all the way to the base of his erection and pounded in and out of your wet heat feverishly.

His nails digging into your hips as his breathing grew heftier after about four minutes of fucking, but the stimulation of his cock rubbing the plug stuffed in your ass through the muscles in your pussy had just started producing the friction you needed and since he hadn’t tapped that special spot since he got in, you were desperate for him to last a little longer.

“Shit!” He grunted, spilling his warm load in the latex as his cock twitched within your walls. Five minutes. Wonderful. 

He pulled out gradually, tearing the condom off immediately and tossing it into the grass. Evan dragged up his pants, tucking his limp dick back into its denim confines as you turned around. “Hey, how about we go again?” You asked seductively, hoping he’d take the bait.

“Sorry, baby. I’m spent.”

“But I didn’t cum yet.”

“You didn’t? Damn, my bad.” He said nonchalantly, chuckling under his breath, pretending to not be an asshole but that’s where this was going, you could tell. “Your pussy is tight, and I just couldn’t wait for long.”

Holding back the urge to roll your eyes in his face, you let out a sigh and ignored his excuse. “Well, will you eat me out instead?”

“Nah, I don’t do that.”

Did he just say that? For a moment you assumed he was joking and let out a dumbfounded snicker, but his stern expression never faltered. “Wait, what?”

“It’s nothing personal. I just don’t eat girls out.” He admitted before he steps around the car to the driver’s side and reached into the window, yanking out a pack of cigarettes and nuzzled one of the sticks between his lips. “We can make out some more though.”

“Pass.”

“Oh, c’mon. Don’t be a bitch about it.” _Asshole_. You scoffed as you adjusted your panties and tugged your skirt down.

“You know what? Piss off.” You said, sticking up both of your middle fingers at him then walked off back to the group. He called out your name, but you didn’t turn around, anger fuming through you and making you want a drink.

Monroe, already drunk, sat on Avery’s lap beside the fire pit laughing until she saw you approaching rapidly. “Hey girl!”

“Hey. I need a drink. Not beer…something stronger.” You demanded and Avery hurried to grab you a red cup on top of the cooler, handing it off to you. It reeked but you shot it back without hesitation, coughing mildly from the burn. “Geez, what’s in that?”

“Does it matter?” he laughed.

“Nope.” And you handed him back the cup for a second round.

###

The sun peered through the window, directly into your face the next day forcing you to open your eyes, but the pounding in your head from the hangover didn’t appreciate it. You groaned from the dreadful pain erupting against your skull as you sat up and swung your legs over the edge of the bed. Looking behind you, Monroe was still fast asleep, wrapped in her blankets.

You urgently left the room to pee, closing the door behind you lightly in order to not make noise and accidentally wake Monroe. As you neared the bathroom down the hall, a gruffly, muffled voice roared through the walls, catching your attention. There’s only one room it could be coming from and that was Monroe’s parents’ room.

And that voice could only belong to one person – Michael.

The yelling continued and of course, it was none of your business but the louder it got, the more your curiosity peaked. Creeping on the balls of your feet, you sneaked closer to the room in the far-right corner, hoping to catch what they were arguing about and Michael’s deep voice was powerful enough that you began to make out words.

_“Cut the bullshit, Mads! We haven’t had sex in over a year! You barely touch me, and now you want to be jealous because she’s nice to me?!”_

_“The world doesn’t revolve around your dick Michael! Sorry if it’s convinced you otherwise.”_

_“Oh, you know what? A ring and a certificate don’t make a marriage and you’re a sorry excuse for a wife!”_

_Slap!_

Your jaw drops at the piercing ring of a strike against someone’s face as you gasp silently, covering your mouth with your hand. How could two people be married and disgusted with each other at the same time? Madilyn clearly wasn’t giving him what he needed and as a wife, she should satisfy her man, especially one that was as attractive and kind as Michael.

_“Michael, I-”_

_“Don’t! Go fuck yourself, Madilyn.”_

Out of nowhere, you heard the door creak open and you rushed to make it look like you weren’t eavesdropping by walking back past the bathroom then turning around to go in. But instead of going in, you waited a split second until Michael appeared from around the corner, stopping in his tracks when he laid his eyes on you.

Michael stands only a few feet away as the two of you lock eyes with each other – his thick hair is up in a messy bun, his firm, bare chest rising and falling as he breathed heavily, and there is a splotchy, red handprint attached to his left cheek. _God, what a bitch his wife was._

“Uh, good morning, (y/n).” He muttered, sounding disgruntled by what just took place in his bedroom.

Admiring his half-naked body, your heart raced against your chest as your eyes trailed to the dark blue boxer briefs hanging off his chiseled hips further down to the outline of the lively bulge confined in them. All at once, your mouth went dry with embarrassment before meeting his eyes again, hoping he didn’t notice you being a complete pervert.

“Morning, Michael…is-is everything okay?” You implored, your tone inflecting compassion, not nosiness, as you felt a pang of worry and concern for him.

Michael’s face softened, the anger he wore partially fading from your concern. The corner of his mouth turned up weakly, putting on a faux lopsided grin, but you could see that his day (or rather his life) was already dragged down. “Yeah, just fine.” He said then headed down the stairs.

###

You went back to Monroe’s room after using the bathroom to find her wide awake…could she hear her parents yelling?

“Is it just me or does it feel like you got smacked by truck, too?” Monroe groaned, holding her hand against her forehead. The two of you burst into weak laughter at the atrocious headaches you both were experiencing from last night’s adventures with her friends.

With that, Monroe went on to ask you if you had a good time at the park and what happened with Evan. You told her that you had a good time (what you can remember at least) and that Evan was charming and hilarious, but then you had sex with him, and it just wasn’t up to your standards. Shocked to hear Evan was a weak performer, she called you picky but the last thing you’d ever settle for is bad sex.

Monroe would never understand your sexual appetite, which is why you didn’t care to divulge much of it to her. Changing topics, you asked about her night and her face glowed with joy. She said Avery asked her out, but she hadn’t given him an answer yet because she didn’t want to leave you by yourself.

“No, you should go. I’m worn out from yesterday anyway, and I could use a chill day. I don’t mind.” You confessed, sitting on the floor beside your luggage to pick out a comfortable outfit.

“Are you sure?” You nodded with a smile to reassure her. “You’re the best.” She gushed as she moved behind you, leaning down and tangling her arms around your shoulders to hug you.

As the day continued, you and Monroe enjoyed cereal for breakfast in the kitchen. You didn’t see or hear her parents since the morning argument and the temptation to ask Monroe about her parents’ relationship kept bubbling inside you but instead, you said nothing. Monroe seemed oblivious to her parents’ indifference as it is, and you had a sneaking suspicion Monroe was going to do her best to avoid her mother as much as she could.

But still, a picture of Michael’s face from this morning lingering in your mind – his angelic features washed with distress, but still downy and exquisite. To think of your best friend’s father this deeply wasn’t right, but thoughts couldn’t hurt anyone if no one knew and you couldn’t stop thinking about Michael’s beauty.

After breakfast, Monroe showered then you did as she got ready for her date.

“Am I going to be here by myself?” you voiced while getting dressed in black jean shorts and a gray t-shirt that read ‘Black Is My Happy Color’ and gray socks.

“Um, I think so. Mama went to a work meeting and I haven’t seen Papa, so he’s probably gone too.” She placed the comb on her vanity when she was done putting her hair in a slick bun, and stood up, taking her phone and purse from the bed before she hugged you goodbye. “See you later!”

Monroe danced out of the room and you were finally alone.

Settling on hanging out downstairs, taking your laptop and phone, you sat at the breakfast bar with a bag of potato chips and a glass of water. You open your laptop and log onto Tumblr, where you run a popular porn blog for about two years. It has over three thousand followers and consists of gifs, pictures, videos, and original content (mainly just pictures of you in lingerie, no face).

It’s mainly a way to express what you desired, craved, and to express yourself. Although there wasn’t a guy to help you live your fantasies, you imagined them through the sexual content on your blog and took care of yourself to gain relief. Fantasies swarming in your mind about getting fucked until you saw stars and even roughed up a bit during, getting your pussy eaten for once, finding the perfect guy to have anal sex with, and most importantly, a guy lasting long enough for you to cum.

As you crunched on chips and scrolled down your dashboard, you reblogged gifs of girls being pounded in the ass, giving blowjobs, and simultaneously looked at activity coming in on your personal photos. You came across a gif of a middle-aged man bottoming out inside a girl and your brain replaced his face with Michael’s.

_What was Michael like in bed? Was he a gentle or rough lover? Did he moan loudly? How often was he horny? A man like him probably has a primal need to make his woman cum before he did,_ you wondered _, and his wife doesn’t even acknowledge how lucky she is._

You changed tabs to look at your blog page while taking a sip of water, but it missed your mouth, spilling about a quarter of it down your shirt. “Shit!”

You stand to put the glass into the sink and the chips back in the pantry before rushing upstairs to change your clothes…which kept you from realizing that you weren’t alone in the house.

*Turns out, Michael never left; he went into his office in the basement after fighting with his wife. He had a couch, pillow, and some blankets down there and after he left the bedroom, he went down there to sleep (and hide). When (y/n) reached the top of the stairs, Michael emerged from the basement looking for his laptop.

He searched the living room first before making his way into the kitchen where he sees a black laptop, that mirrored his own, sitting open with a black screen.

“Oh, here it is.” Wiping the pads of his fingers over the touchpad, the screen flashes on, and his eyes widen. The pornographic images shock him initially, but instead of stepping away after recognizing it wasn’t his computer, he scrolled down to view more photos.

Blood rushed to his cock and hardened it as his mouth dried, turned on by what he was seeing, and before long, he came across a picture of a woman wearing lace red lingerie posed in different erotic positions and tingling arousal splits through him until he puts it together. This wasn’t his wife’s computer or his daughter’s, but that body appeared familiar.

Then it hit him…this was (y/n). This was her computer…and that was her in the lingerie as he remembered seeing her delectable figure in a silk pink pajama set earlier – those legs in those shorts and her supple arms in the matching tank top. _God, what a sexy, young beauty_ , he thought, … _fuck me, I’m screwed_.

The shuffling of feet upstairs troubles him, so he immediately pressed the power button and the screen faded to black before he walked into the kitchen, entirely nervous to see (y/n). *

You’d changed into a black, cropped tank top and descended the staircase, jumping in fright when you saw Michael standing in the kitchen on the opposite side of the breakfast bar. He had on these baggy, gray sweatpants now and still no shirt, but you sure as hell wasn’t complaining.

“Oh, Michael. Hi…I didn’t know you were home.” You noted, taking your seat in front of your laptop and closing it.

Michael’s eyes shift aimlessly until he gives in and meets your eyes fixed on his face. He exhales but his body language was tense.

“Uh, yeah…I-I was, um, downstairs. In my office.” His eyes scanned down your neck, your shoulders, your _breasts,_ and his face flushed beat red. “D-Did you need anything? Um, can I get you something? Are you hungry? Thirsty? Is Monroe here? Did she show you around at all? I, um, can fix you some food if you like, uh…”

He spoke rapidly, it was hard to keep track of everything he said like he was wired on adrenaline. Michael slides his hands into his pockets, flitting his eyes to the ground. Why was he being awkward?

“No, I’m okay, not really hungry right now. I had water earlier, but I was clumsy and spilled it on myself. Monroe did leave about an hour ago, but I’m fine. Thank you though, Michael.” You tilted your head to the side, undoubtedly working to view those long, refined eyelashes that shaded the glossy pools of blue in his pupils.

Raising his head listlessly, peering at your face, he nodded and bit his bottom lip. “Right, I’ll, um, I’ll be in the basement…if you need anything.” He mumbled, gliding towards the staircase.

“Okay.” Your pleasant tone forced him to lock eyes with you and there’s an unspoken moment between you and him that felt…intense.

“Okay.” Michael mistakenly hits his back against the railing, focused on the twinkle in your eyes rather than where he was going until he snapped back. “Uh, okay.”

The divine creature twirls on the heels of his bare feet and scurries back downstairs, leaving you with queries unanswered.

###

When Monroe returned around eight o’clock, the two of you decided to make some popcorn and enjoy movies in her room (scary films, of course). Her parents went out to dinner for a date night, and in the back of your mind, you pondered whether Michael would be easily forgiving. Why wouldn’t he though? They are married after all.

Monroe drifted off to sleep at the end of the second movie, so you decided to go outside to smoke a little marijuana before going to sleep. After rolling a blunt, you took a lighter and slipped on your sneakers before slowly creeping downstairs, being careful not to wake up Monroe. The house is silent and pitch-black but there is moonlight shining in from the backyard through the sliding doors.

You step into the backyard, sliding the door closed behind you and sitting on the edge of one of the lawn chairs beside the tremendous pool. Sticking one end of the blunt between your lips, you light the other side, inhaling the strong fumes into your mouth, blowing out a massive, gray cloud of smoke with every hit.

As your high began to fill and relax you, the sliding door suddenly pushes open and your heart sinks as you whip your head to the side. It was Michael, standing in the doorframe with a small glass in hand with brown liquid in it, staring right at you. In seconds, it clicks that this is his house and he’s probably not okay with someone smoking weed in his backyard. Immediately you put out the burning end on the ground and tried to hide the joint.

But there’s no way to hide to smell.

“What are you doing out here?” His velvety voice sounded a bit hoarse like he’s been yelling as he mumbled his words. “Are you…getting high?”

Your mouth fell open to lie but gazing into his divine ocean blue eyes, your mind changed. “Yeah, uh, sorry. It helps me relax and I didn’t know you and Mrs. Langdon would be back so soon, and I just thought-”

“Hey, it’s okay. I don’t mind, I’m only messing with you.” He chuckles, sliding the door closed before strolling towards you. His all-black button shirt complimented his black slacks and shiny, black dress shoes nicely, making his long, silky curls stand out. He’d looked incredibly sexy, with his hair cascading over his shoulders and suave attire.

Michael sipped from his glass, sitting down sluggishly in the lawn chair beside you, running his hand through his hair and sighing. You advert your eyes in order to not stare and light your blunt again; it’s weird to smoke in front of a parent but Michael seemed to be fine with it, so you tried not to overthink the situation.

But why was he sitting out here with you? Did he just need some air or space from his wife? As much as you wanted to ask him about it, you kept your mouth shut and continued to smoke. At least he wasn’t being standoffish and resembling his prior actions in the kitchen.

“Mind if I have some?” he asked politely. You upstretched an eyebrow before holding out your arm with the blunt between your fingers. He gingerly pinched it and held it to his pink (desirable) lips, taking a big hit into his lungs and blowing out the smoke with ease. “Shit. I haven’t smoked since college. Best time of my life.”

He inhales another hit before handing it back and swallows the rest of the liquid in his glass.

“Why was it the best?”

His face reddened, the weed and, what you assume was liquor, flooding through him, along with traces of exhaustion and sadness.

Michael shrugged. “I was young, single, partying, and getting laid constantly…happy.”

His voice trailed off, reflecting that he coasted off into deep thought. Standing to his feet with his glass, you watched as he walked to the bar in the corner, giving in to your primal need to follow the confident sway of his hips with your eyes. There’s was anger in the way he moved now.

Slamming his glass down on the bar, he reached under it and revealed a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels and roughly unscrewed the top before filling his glass to the middle. He swallowed every drop in one swig, leaving the open bottle in front of him. He seemed…drained, the frustration was written on his face clearly for you to see as he leaned his palms on the bar top with his head down.

It compelled you to put out your burning roach, get up and hike over to him. “You aren’t happy anymore?”

He gingerly tilted his head up to meet your eyes and let out a sarcastic snicker under his breath. “Are you?”

“Relatively speaking, yeah…but I’m not a parent, or married.” You said, attempting to comfort him or some form of that. “As you grow up, the responsibilities pile on.”

He doesn’t say a word. Just continues to gaze at your face, his eyes trained on your lips, and there was something about it that made your breath hitch in your throat.

Michael straightens his back, still not adverting his eyes from you as he saunters around the bar.

“What if…you said fuck the responsibilities, and did something you wanted to do even though you know you shouldn’t?” He drawled with this lusting look in his eyes, moving closer to you with every step until he stood directly in front of you.

The humid air allowed you to smell his cologne instantly, it’s a combination of vanilla and lavender, pungent enough that you can no longer smell the marijuana on you. His towering stature nearly makes you fall backward, but you swallow hard and maintain your balance as he raised a hand and folded a strand of your hair behind your ear, gently brushing your cheek with his fingertips. The butterflies in your stomach fluttering out of control…what exactly was he doing?

“I g-guess it depends…on the consequences.” You answer timidly, getting lost in the imitate space he created as you stared at each other. Being so close to him left you weak, his delicate touch raising the hair on your skin, and you couldn’t move…but you didn’t want to.

He clenched his jaw, his plump lips set in a hard line as he remained silent yet again. “Fuck the consequences…” He draws his bottom lip into his mouth, biting on it silently before letting fall and running his tongue over it.

Without warning, Michael lowered his head and pressed his lips to yours, caressing the side of your neck in his palm. Your eyes, wide with surprise, eventually closed as everything else falls away and you move your lips lithely against his, forgetting who he was and who you were.

His lips were soft (as you suspected), tender, sending electricity through your veins as he deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue through your lips effortlessly. You tasted the warm mixture of his whiskey and the blueberry blunt as your tongues rolled over each other, hooking your index fingers into two of the belt hoops in his slacks and pulled yourself closer to him.

The passion of it makes you dizzy, his experience and maturity evident in how he captures your lips, lovingly sweeping his tongue over every inch of your mouth. He moans hungrily into you, sending vibrations through your body to the growing ache in your cunt and tingling in your toes. What really threw you for a loop was when he dragged his large hand to the front of your throat, curling his thick fingers and squeezed slightly, as if you weren’t breathless before.

Michael wanted _you_. Apparently, this was his intention all along – you’re not sure if it was the alcohol that developed his bold attitude or possibly something you did but you couldn’t care less. His luscious hair brushing your face, calloused fingers pressing into your supple skin, and the marvelous sensation of his mouth forced you not to.

This was what you wanted too, but it felt weird to finally admit to yourself.

But then, the moment changed.

He sternly pulled his lips away and lifted his head, your eyes steadily opening to see his worried expression sprawled across his face. _Oh no_ , you thought, _what happened_?

“I’m sorry…oh my god. Shit! I’m so sorry…” He panicked, releasing your throat and stepping back.

“No, it’s-it’s okay…it’s okay.” You panted, wanting to reassure him but it was too late. All the blood had drained from his face, stunned by what he’d just done. His eyes were apologetic and fearful, darkened by his creased brows as he ran his hand through his hair fretfully.

“Fuck!” He cursed and stormed away, leaving you perplexed (again) as he went back inside the house.

The recent event replayed in your mind repeatedly, ghosting the pads of your fingers over your lips that were still wet with Michael’s saliva. _He_ kissed you… _Michael_ kissed you… _Monroe’s father_ kissed you…

…and you desperately wished for it to happen again.

###

The night was never-ending as you laid awake for most of it, eyeing the clock on Monroe’s nightstand that ticked slower by the minute. Your brain just didn’t want to shut off, playing the shared kiss with Michael on a loop and enquiring what it all meant. He said it himself, he wanted to kiss you and that repercussions didn’t matter.

Even caught off guard by it, the second his lips touched yours, your will crumbled, and instantly, tasting him became a welcomed surprise.

_But he’s married…_

It was perfect as if his lips were fated to kiss yours like you two shared something special and were designed to be intimate with one another.

_But he’s married…_

He needed to kiss you, his life has backed him into a corner, and you were his escape. It explained why he was acting oddly during the day, why he stared at you for as long as he did, and why he felt terrible after he took what yearned for.

_BUT HE’S MARRIED…._ and for some reason, that didn’t bother you. She didn’t appreciate him, didn’t take care of him, because if she did, he wouldn’t be crawling to you and feigning happiness. That was the best kiss you’d ever experienced, and you couldn’t just let it go. Maybe guys your age weren’t for you…maybe you just had a thing for older men…

You fell asleep around five in the morning due to overtiredness and dreamt of him; picturing him in his sweatpants, his smooth lips smirking at you before they planted themselves on yours as your brain’s subconscious turned during its sleep cycle.

But unfortunately, your bladder woke you up from it around eleven, flapping your eyelashes hazily as you stirred. Turning your head, you spot that Monroe’s side of the bed was empty and she wasn’t in the room at all. You went to use the bathroom with your heart racing and your stomach turning as you thought about how weird things were going to be with Michael.

He’s Monroe’s father. He’s married. He kissed you and you kissed him back. That wasn’t something you couldn’t be easily ignored, and you’d eventually have to talk about it, but you weren’t ready for what he would say.

Afterward, your feet padded down the steps, greeted by the sharp, bitter redolence of freshly brewed coffee and a groggy Michael standing barefoot in the kitchen, sipping a cup of the black mud. His hair encasing his sculpted face, wearing checkered pajama pants and no shirt like always, and you adored the veins running down his arms from his broad shoulders and his hairless pecs. _Fuck,_ you thought _, he is too irresistible._

As you waltzed off the steps, he didn’t even look in your direction. “…Good morning, Michael.” You chimed hesitantly, and he responded with a weak grin that barely lifted to his prominent cheekbones and only glanced at you for a second. It hit you like a stab to your chest as your heart sank and the room enclosed around you. “Um, do you know where Monroe is?”

“She’s in our bedroom, talking to her mother.” He answered in a low tone, absentmindedly drinking his coffee. Why was he being cold? 

You carefully stalked towards the side of the counter, standing a foot away from him and the muscles in his jaw clench. It was clear he didn’t want to talk about it, at least not right now, but you had to get it off your chest. “We need to talk…” you whispered.

He shot you a harsh look, one that said, ‘don’t you fucking dare’ and sets his coffee mug down. _Whoa._ “Stop.” He commanded sternly, and you took a deep breath, shifting your feet on the cool tile floor and shutting your lips in a fine line, perceptive of the severity of his reply.

Rightfully so, because seconds later Monroe skipped down the staircase, and Michael smiled in her direction as you spun on your heels to face her, pretending that nothing was going on between you and Michael…was there anything going on?

“Hey, sweetheart.”

“Hi, Papa! Oh, good, (y/n), you’re up.” Monroe said. You notice that she is completely dressed, and her hair styled. 

“Yeah, I was just about to get a cup of coffee.” You explained.

“Okay, well, Mama wants to take me shopping and have some _bonding_ time.” She punctuated the disgust she felt for the term ‘bonding’ by flashing air quotes with her fingers and you simply chuckled. “But if you want to come with, I wouldn’t be opposed.”

As much as you wanted to be there for Monroe, this was exactly the opportunity you needed to discuss things with Michael and clear the air. “Um, I’m actually still a little tired. I didn’t get much sleep last night – besides, you should spend time with your mom, especially if she’s buying you stuff.” You lie flawlessly, and Monroe nods in agreement.

“Why do you think I said yes?” She snorted, and that’s when Madilyn roamed down the stairs.

“Ready to go?” She doesn’t even look at Michael, but she grins kindly at you, and you return the notion. Monroe nodded before she raced to peck Michael on the cheek and told you goodbye, and then they both left out the front door.

The deafening silence dawdled between you and Michael until you twirled around to face him, catching how he visibly darted his eyes from you to the counter. You leaned your elbows on the counter, bending forward and sticking your ass out slightly, knowing what you’re doing as you see him cut his eyes to look at you. “Mind making me a cup of coffee, please?” You asked innocently, folding your hands together under your chin. “Two sugars.”

Michael’s body relaxes and he nods gingerly, grabbing a coffee mug from the cabinet and pouring the steaming, dark liquid in it. He opened a canister with white grains in it and tossed two spoons of sugar inside the cup before handing it to you.

“Look…I’m not sure what to say.” He revealed, his head hanging low as though he was disappointed in himself.

“You could start by telling me the truth…about why you kissed me, and…if you regret it.” You straightened your back to stand upright, taking a small sip of your coffee.

Unexpectantly, he scoffed like it was such a ridiculous idea for you to have. “No. No, I don’t regret it.” He sighed, “but it still shouldn’t have happened. You’re my daughter’s best friend. I…I have a wife, a family. It was wrong.”

“I understand, and you’re right.” He had obligations and messing around with you broke the rules, but fuck the consequences, right? You slowly approached him, inches away from him now on his side. “But you said last night that you wanted to kiss me…do you want to kiss me again?”

It pained you to be this vulnerable, to be throwing yourself at a married man who’s twice your age, and you were wishing you never spoke…wished that you didn’t want to kiss him again right now as your eyes soaked in the right side of his face hungrily. 

“Yes.” He breathed.

“I don’t want to mess up your life…I just want both of us to get what we want.”

Michael turned his body to the right, facing you and close enough that you could smell the coffee on his breath as he loomed over you, his heavy-lidded eyes were predatory, lustful, as he peered down at you.

“You don’t understand, you are the ultimate temptation…kissing you won’t be enough for me.” He said. “If only you could read my mind…I mean, if I hadn’t stopped myself yesterday, I would of-”

He paused abruptly, biting down on his lower lip for a moment to stop his words from flowing but surprise flickered across your face at what he said, eager to hear more. “You would have what? What do you want to do to me?” You urged, your eyes begging for him to be honest, to confess the private thoughts he had about you. “Tell me.”

He sensually wet his lips, bringing his hand up and drawing his knuckles down the skin on your upper arm, appreciating how delicate you are. “I want to kiss every square inch of your body, discover how you taste, and fuck you, _hard_ , to feel how you cum around me.”

You swallowed the hard knot in your throat, baffled to know just what he wanted, and your skin prickled from his cool touch and his vulgar words. Your chest tightened, leaving you nearly breathless, as this warm ache intensifies between your legs, and your mouth began to dry out.

“T-That would be a first…for me.” You muttered, focusing on his hand sliding upward to your shoulder, tantalizing you by tracing a pattern with his index finger over your collarbone.

“What do you mean?”

“No one has ever made me cum before.” You admitted. “Only me.”

“You’re a virgin?” He asked in disbelief.

“No, it’s just no one has made me have an orgasm, except for myself. I’ve actually started to think there is something wrong with me…” Your cheeks grow hotter by the second, discussing your (failed) sexcapades with him as his fingers knocked the strap on your shirt down off your shoulder.

He let his arm fall to his side. “There is _nothing_ wrong with you.” He took a deep breath and a spark goes off in his eyes as they burn with impatient longing. “Come on.”

Michael promptly grasped your hand in his and started pulling you to the staircase with him. “Where are we going?” You stumbled over your feet as you turned around, working to keep up with him.

“ _I’m going to make you cum_.” The confidence in his voice sent chills through your body, heat flushing through you, and your palm growing damp from his strong grasp on your hand.

The closest room was Monroe’s, but you were hesitant about having sex in her bed. Were you truly about to have sex with her father? Michael clearly was not – leading you into his daughter’s bedroom without a second thought and closing the door after dragging you inside. “Go sit on the bed.” He ordered and you quickly oblige, taking a seat on the edge of the mattress.

Michael moves to stand in front of you, putting you under his intense gaze with your face inches from his pelvis. He slides his palm under your hair and caressed the side of your jaw before running the tender pad of his thumb gracefully over your lips, slipping it into your mouth and over your warm tongue. He pressed down as he gathered your salvia on his thumb, growling lowly under his breath when you started sucking his salty skin gently.

“This stays between us, okay?” He took his digit from between your lips with a ‘pop’ sound echoing as you nodded. “Damn, you are _so_ sexy.”

Within a matter of minutes, Michael was kneeling before you, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your pajama shorts and pulling them down along with your panties, tossing them to the floor. Instinctively, you used your palms to push yourself up the bed as Michael stood up, leaning back on your elbows.

“I’ve touched myself thinking about you…twice.” He drawled as he gripped your knees, spreading your legs to gain a glimpse of your glistening pussy. “Are you always this wet?”

Your face grew hotter with embarrassment, scared that he would get turned off by seeing you bare and dripping, and you shrugged casually, masking yourself with a calm disguise. “Yeah…sometimes. You’ve also got a hand in the matter.”

“Fuck, that’s hot…so, I’ve got you all hot and bothered, then?”

He didn’t need an answer. He could see it written all over your face what he was doing to you. Michael looked insanely dashing with his hair facing in front of his face and his eyes clouded with possessive lust, like an animal ready to devour its prey. His knees dug into the mattress as he crawled between your legs, pushing his naked torso against your chest as he leaned down and kissed you hard.

You don’t hold back this time, craning your neck to deepen the heated kiss and mewling into his mouth when he shoved your shirt upwards as his hand slid up your stomach and finds your left breast, kneading it aggressively in his hand and circling your nipple with his thumb. “So sensitive…” He commented against your mouth that vibrated down your body into your gut. “Don’t be shy, baby girl, I’m going to take care of you.”

He can feel your heart thrumming in your chest, continuing to kiss you sloppily. It’s full of hunger and desire, teeth clashing together, and he puts his free hand to work by rubbing it up and down the top of your right thigh, digging his fingers in and spreading this hot pleasure within you that made you clench your stomach.

You bucked your hips up impatiently and the arousal seeping from your cunt wets the spot of his pants that covers his twitching erection, and he lets out a hard gasp as he pulls his mouth from yours, a silvery string of spit connecting to your mouths. Michael reopens his eyes to stand to his feet, making quick work to shed his pajama pants and boxer briefs, allowing you to his massive, thick cock in full view.

You gaped at his magnificent size, never witnessing a cock that big before, and your mouth waters at the veins circling his shaft, the flushed tip that shimmered with pre-cum that’s leaking out of the slit, emphasizing just how badly he wanted you too. _That’s a man’s cock_ , you thought.

He kicked his clothes from around his ankles before positioning himself back between your legs. “Let’s get this off.” He said as he pinches the hem of your shirt. You lie all the way on your back and lift your arms beside your head, goosebumps coating your skin as he pulls the shirt up over you, and places it on the bed.

“Tell me what you want, darling. _Tell me_.” He cooed in your ear, kissing and sucking the skin on your jaw to the nape of your neck, teasing you, and your eyes widen as his tongue swirled patterns over your collarbone.

“ _I want you to fuck me…please fuck me, Michael.”_ You moaned, and it ignited a fire under his skin – he doesn’t need to be told twice.

He glanced down and wrapped his hand around the base of his length. You raised your legs, bending your knees and whimpering sweetly as he dragged the head of his cock over your entrance, brushing it along your throbbing clit and making your back arch to give him better access. Michael finally slides himself into you, both of you gasping as he stretched out your walls and bottomed out.

“Fuck!” You cried out, unprepared to be filled deep with his thickness, and threw your head back, exposing your throat. It burned for a moment until shortly the discomfort faded and you were overcome by ecstasy.

Your left hand rushed to find the metal pole at the bottom bed frame, gripping it tightly, and he grunted weakly as your cunt clenched around him. “Good girl, you take me so well.”

His lips grazed your throat as he settled his bulky arm beside your head, fisting a clump of your hair in his hand while his other hand massaged your hip and all at once, began pounding into you steadily, shaking the bed underneath your bodies.

You raked the nails on your free hand down his forearm, rolling your eyes back as you moan loudly and he face lingers over yours as he simply marvels at you relishing in how your walls milked him, the squelching sound of his rough pumping mixed with his carnal grunting resonated around the room.

As he fucked you passionately, he swirled his hips and instantly found your g-spot, crashing into it as he buried himself inside you repeatedly. “ _Yes! Yes, right there! Please, don’t stop!_ ” You pleaded, tears prickling at the corner of your closed eyes from how good it feels to penetrated by him.

“Yeah, you like that, beautiful? Does that feel good?” He teased, licking a wide, heavy stripe up your throat.

Your hold on his arm tightening as you feel your orgasm stirring in your belly, rattled by how fiercely it came and he wasn’t even breaking a sweat, still splitting you on his cock and it had been well past ten minutes. This was everything you ever wanted, and now that you had it, it was going to be difficult to not want it again.

Michael drew his hand up from your hip and curled it around your throat, gripping your airways lightly and your toes curl from the unanticipated touch, it was just what you needed to started pushing you over the edge.

“Oh my god, Michael, I’m–”

“Go on baby girl, _cum for me_.” He coaxed, pressing down harder on your throat and quickening his pace.

Before you know it, your mouth parted in a silent cry, the combination of his hand tangled your hair while the other chokes you and his hips slamming against your ass snapped the coil in your belly and your orgasm washed over you. Your body shuddered and your thighs trembled as your spongy walls squeezed him and your juices leaked out your core and soaked his cock.

With two more thrusts and the cracking sound of your voice when you cursed his name as your pussy pulsed around him, his body tensed up and a searing roar tears from his chest as his cock twitched and he convulsed against you, filling you with his hot cum. You hooked your arms around his neck, holding him to you and thread your fingers in the back of his long curls.

It’s a fiery explosion of passion the two of you share and in the back of your mind, you’re hoping it’s the first of many. He kissed the side of your mouth faintly, dropping all his weight on you as he rested his face between your breasts, panting with you simultaneously. 

“Was that satisfying enough?” He mused, sounding out of breath and cradling your sides in his hands as you run your fingers through his hair.

“More than you know…”

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: this was a story I wrote on my last blog (theinevitableprophecy)


End file.
